


don't stop to worry

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Haircuts, M/M, Sappy, and Louis loves him anyway, basically Harry cuts his hair and is nervous about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was just supposed to be a trim today, to skim off the dead ends of his hair. He had no idea it’d end the way it did.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Harry cuts his hair. It's kind of a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't stop to worry

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [don't stop to worry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479024) by [malishka1011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malishka1011/pseuds/malishka1011)



> i think we all knew this was going to happen...
> 
> special thanks to Jonna for being the best human and to Gabby for the idea for this dumb lil thing ily both
> 
> title is from Every Day by Magic Man

Harry closes the door quietly behind himself, tugging his beanie down over his ears again and looking around the flat. Louis is nowhere to be seen, but Harry can hear him, like a kitten getting up to some mischief in the kitchen, or maybe upstairs, Harry can’t really tell.

He can hear Louis humming, his quiet, tinkling voice drifting out from one of the many spaces in their flat. They’ve been dating for nearly six years now, Harry knows well the sound of Louis’s voice, both speaking and singing. That doesn’t lessen the tingle of excitement that zips down Harry’s spine, though, nor does it keep the butterflies low in his tummy at bay. Louis probably doesn’t know he’s home yet, or else he wouldn't still be singing. As confident and outgoing as Louis is, he still gets shy sometimes when Harry catches him like this.

As Harry approaches the kitchen, he can hear Louis more clearly. A quick peek into the kitchen allows Harry the vision of his boyfriend, clad in baggy joggers and a t-shirt that probably once belonged to Harry, swaying his hips slowly to the beat of his own melody while he rummages in the fridge.

Harry tries to cut past the doorway into their bedroom, where he’ll be safe. It was just supposed to be a trim today, to skim off the dead ends of his hair. He had no idea it’d end the way it did. As he turns from the kitchen he smacks into the doorway, whining at the throbbing pain in his forehead.

Louis shrieks, actually _shrieks_ , and drops whatever he’s fished out of the fridge. It happens to be a bottle of orange juice, but thankfully, it doesn’t splatter open.

“Jesus, Harry!” He shouts, grasping at his chest. “I am too fucking old for this shit, you’re going to give me an actual heart attack one of these days. Wouldn’t that be quite the headline? _Harry Styles kills bandmate and boyfriend of six years by sending him into cardiac arrest just by being a bloody idiot_ ,” he grumbles, picking up the orange juice and shoving it back into the fridge.

Harry can’t help but giggle, anxiety aside for now. Even if he’s scared shitless about what people, Louis included, will say about his hair, he can’t help but pad over and wrap his silly boyfriend up in his arms.

“That’s a very, very long headline,” he hums, forcing Louis to tuck his head into his neck and resting his chin on top of his head. “And you’re twenty-four, Lou, you’re not old and you’re not going to die of a heart attack,” he chuckles, pressing his fingers into Louis’s back. His hair smells like a day old shampoo and his skin is soft and warm when Harry slips his hand up under the back of his shirt.

“Still,” Louis huffs indignantly, even as he sinks into Harry’s arms. “Not as young as I used to be. Don’t know how much longer I can deal with you creeping around like some kind of weird, lanky cat and scaring the bejeezus out of me on the daily.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Harry grins, holding him tighter for just a moment before he lets go. Louis peers up at him, doing that weird thing with his lips that he does when he’s trying not to smile too hard.

“You look ridiculous with your hair all tucked up like that,” he says. Harry flushes, but Louis doesn’t seem to notice, and thankfully, doesn’t reach up to rip the hat off his head.

“Thanks,” Harry hums, trying to play it cool. He plops down at the kitchen table, picking up an orange from the fruit bowl and playing with the sticker on it. “What do you want to do for dinner?” He asks, throwing the orange suddenly at Louis.

Louis catches it without a thought, throwing it immediately back at Harry, like a reflex. Harry lacks those ninja-like skills and just flails, taking the orange right to the face.

Louis laughs loudly while Harry squawks in pain, picking up the orange and placing it gingerly back into the fruit bowl. “Sorry, love,” Louis sings softly, coming around the chair to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck from behind. He presses his face against the side of Harry’s face and breathes for a moment, sending goosebumps in waves over Harry’s body.

“S’okay,” Harry hums, leaning into Louis’s embrace, soaking it up like he needs it.

“Maybe pizza, or Chinese,” Louis says, pressing his nose firmly against Harry’s temple. “You smell like salon.”

“We’ve had pizza three times this week,” Harry sighs, shifting slightly to look up at Louis, “and Chinese twice.” He carefully ignores Louis's second statement, lest he open a can of worms he's not ready to deal with yet.

“I don’t feel like cooking,” Louis whines, straightening up and kicking weakly at the leg of Harry’s chair.

“You wouldn’t cook anyway,” Harry laughs, rolling his eyes and reaching for his phone. If Louis wants pizza, he’s going to get pizza, regardless of what Harry does or says.

“True,” Louis hums, hoisting himself up to sit on the worktop across from the table. “Well, I don’t feel like doing dishes,” he amends. Harry almost chokes, glancing up at him.

“You never feel like doing dishes. Name one time in your life you’ve ever done the dishes.”

“There was that one time-” 

“Shut up,” Harry chuckles, shaking his head while he dials the number on his phone. “Pizza, then?”

“Pepperoni,” Louis sings, giving Harry his biggest, sweetest grin. He kicks his feet against the cupboard door beneath him, earning himself a disapproving glare from Harry. As soon as Harry is off the phone, Louis gives him a look.

“Why don’t you take your hat off, Haz? Stay awhile,” he jokes. Harry blushes up to the tips of his ears, which are still hidden under the brim of his beanie.

“What, you don’t like my hat?” Harry pouts, trying to pretend like his hands aren’t shaking as he reaches up to touch his beanie protectively. Louis, eagle-eyed as he is, catches on immediately.

“Harry,” he says, sliding off the counter and watching him for a moment. Harry feels his forced smile slip off his face rather quickly. “Baby, why do you look scared?”

“Lou,” Harry mutters, voice quiet suddenly. 

“Hey,” Louis says softly, rounding the table to take the chair right next to Harry. Harry wants to cry, kind of, and it must show on his face because Louis looks panicked. “Hey, it’s okay. What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry breathes, moving away when Louis reaches carefully for his hat. “You’re going to hate it.”

“No,” Louis assures, reaching for Harry’s face instead and holding his jaw gently. “Harry, what did you-”

“I didn’t think it would be today,” Harry says, like he’s defending himself. He stands up quickly, tugging his hat down over his ears again.

“You didn’t think what would be today?” Louis asks, standing up as well and following Harry into the living room.

“I didn’t know it would be long enough, but when I got there they measured it and it was, but just barely, so they gave me the choice, and I…”

Louis’s face suddenly dawns in realization, lips parting in surprise. “Oh,” he breathes, hands falling to his sides. “Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry squeaks, tugging on the beanie again. “I’m sorry.” The air is so heavy, Harry can't breathe.

“Don’t be sorry, love,” Louis says, smiling like Harry’s being just as silly as he knows he is. “Just let me see your bloody hair. Not like you removed a limb, yeah?”

Just like that, the mood lightens considerably. Harry breathes out a silent huff of laughter and Louis grins, stepping up to him gingerly. “Can I?” He hums, reaching up to touch Harry’s hat.

Harry ducks his head and nods, closing his eyes when Louis’s fingers slip under the brim of the hat and slowly pull it off. He hears Louis’s quiet intake of breath, feels his fingers run through what’s left of his hair.

It’s not gone, not all of it. It’s about as long as it was three years ago, little springy curls against the base of his neck and falling messily over his forehead. It’s not styled and was shoved under the hat still wet, so it probably looks horrendous, but Louis is still smiling when Harry finally gains the courage to look up. 

“Hazza,” he coos, tugging at one of Harry’s little curls. It’s so much curlier short, springy and wild like it used to be. “Oh my god, you look nineteen again.”

“Do you like it?” Harry asks, feeling another blush creeping over his face. Louis grins, backing away a bit to look at him.

“You know I loved your long hair,” Louis says, reaching up to play with it again. It’s soft and silky in a way it hasn’t been in a while. “But this… It’s adorable. You look so cute. You always look cute, you know, but this is like we’ve gone back in time and you’re the dorky, curly boy I fell in love with again,” he hums, scratching at Harry’s scalp.

“I’ll always be the dorky, curly boy you fell in love with,” Harry grins, grabbing Louis by the hips and pulling him close to plant a kiss on his lips. “Just like you’ll always be the curvy, teeny little elf that I fell in love with.”

“Oi!” Louis protests, tugging Harry’s hair a little too hard. Harry laughs, and Louis melts. “Fuck you, corkscrew.”

“Wouldn’t you like to, pixie?” Harry giggles. Louis sticks his tongue out at him, smiling as he pushes him away.

“God,” he breathes, looking at him again like he’s in awe. “I can’t believe it’s gone. Just like that.”

Harry’s smile fades into something softer as he reaches up to touch his hair. He crosses the living room to go into the powder room, flicking on the light and looking at himself in the mirror.

It hadn’t exactly felt real in the salon. He’d watched as the stylist braided it and he'd counted her down from five before she cut it off, and he’d held it in his hand to take a picture before he said goodbye to it. He’d seen himself then, as the stylist cleaned it up, watched as his curls got shorter and shorter. Now, though, standing in his own bathroom in his own house, it becomes real.

Louis’s arms snake around Harry’s waist as Harry’s eyes fill with tears, squeezing at his little pouch of a tummy. Louis hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder and smiles at him in the mirror, reaching up to kiss away the first tear that rolls down his face.

“What do you think of it?” Louis asks, watching Harry’s reflection as he wipes at his own face and tousles his hair again.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugs, staring at his new fringe, at the way his shoulders look so much broader without his hair brushing the tops of them. This’ll be so much easier to wash, to style, to take care of. His long hair was a pain in the ass, and he cursed it all the time, but he’ll miss it dearly.

“It’s just hair, anyway,” Louis reasons, reaching up to curve his hand around a curl. “It’ll grow back. And you did such a nice thing. Some little kid is going to be so, so happy to have your beautiful hair on their head.”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, turning his head to bump his nose against Louis’s cheekbone. This close, Harry can see every one of Louis’s eyelashes individually. “But what will you play with when you’re bored now? It’s so short,” he sighs, looking up at the mirror again.

Louis scoffs, letting go of him and stepping back. “Shit, I guess you’ve got me there. I’ll have to toss you out now, won’t I? Get meself one of them Barbie heads with hair long enough to practice me braids on. I was just getting good at my Dutch braids, as well,” he sighs, leaving the bathroom with a flourish.

Harry laughs, following him without another glance at the mirror. “Louis,” he whines, catching him in the kitchen and holding him from behind, pressing his grin into the back of his neck. “I’m still as pretty as a Barbie, aren’t I?”

“Prettier, love,” Louis hums, lacing his fingers with Harry’s over his stomach. His hand is so tiny, his palm barely fitting over the back of Harry’s hand. “Much, much prettier.”

The doorbell sounds then, startling them out of their little moment. Louis skips off, heading for the front door with a call of, “dinner’s on me!”

“Louis,” Harry calls after him, still grinning. “It’s under my name, you can’t open the door!”

“Oh, hush,” Louis groans, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and sorting through it. “Let us get caught. Let’s have some fun,” he hums, winking in Harry’s direction before throwing the door open.

Harry grins so wide it hurts his cheeks, but still hides in the kitchen until he knows the delivery person is gone. Louis is already sprawled on the sofa with half a slice of pizza down his throat when Harry emerges, and Harry giggles softly as he finds a place to squeeze in next to him.

Louis watches him carefully, like he’s observing him. Harry can feel himself blushing, but Louis continues watching him for a moment before he speaks.

“You know I’ll love you no matter what you look like, yeah?”

Harry nods quickly, glancing over at him. “Of course, yeah.”

“Like,” Louis hums, sitting up a little bit. “You could shave your entire head bald and die your scalp hot pink, and you’d still be the prettiest person in the whole world to me,” he says.

Harry laughs brightly, blushing brighter. “I don’t think I’ll do that any time soon, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis grins, nuzzling into Harry’s side and munching happily on his pizza. Harry wraps his arm around him and bites into his own slice, a small smile still sitting on his lips.

He falls asleep shortly after dinner, full of pizza and wrapped up in Louis’s arms. They switched positions at some point and Harry is now pillowed on Louis’s chest with Louis’s careful, greasy little fingers playing with his hair. There’s no long, silky curl tickling at his nose, and he’s kind of sad about it, but there’s a little girl or boy out there somewhere that is going to be so, so happy with those curls, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/145575246532/fukcinglouis-dont-stop-to-worry-by-suspendrs), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)


End file.
